Snatches of Life
by bandaidofdoom
Summary: A collection of drabbles on life by those who have truly lived it. Features Ezio/Leonardo, Volpe/Antonio, Lorenzo/Giovanni, and others.
1. Leaps and Bounds

**By Leaps and Bounds**

The hieracherchy among the thieves of Firenze was very simple: La Volpe, and then his everyone else. The Fox worked to make sure that his thieves were relatively safe rom the guards, that a cut of their profits went to the people who assured that safety, and that no freelance pick pockets pushed out his men. In return, they did not quetion his leadership. Indeed, there had only ever been one rebellion under his 'rule'. It had been almost twnety years ago, and the older thieves still spoke of how the back alleys of their city ran red with traitor blood. One does not outfox the fox.

And so there was no doubt that it was safe to leave Firenze and her thieves to their own devices for a day or so. In truth, if he played his cards right he could be gone and back without his men being any the wiser. And yet, there was always a pang in La Volpe, as he watched Firenze disapear over the mountains. A fox does not like leaving his lair, no matter how safe that lair was. But he had a most important task in Venezia, and it demanded his presence. And that meant leaving his city to fend for herself.

There was a charm to Venezia, Volpe had to acknowledge that. It's buildings were taller then the ones in Firenze, giving him both the challange of the climb and the reward of the view. There was the thrill of leaping over canals-though the smell was hardly worth the effort-, and the food was excellant.

And then, there were the thieves. They were everwhere to be seen, as often on the streets as they were on the rooftops. The thieves guild in Venezia was massive, eclipsing the small but efficient community in her sister city. But Volpe had the pleasure every time of seeing their day to activity, and overall lack of agility. So many of them were young, and they lacked the strong center of older, more experianced thieves that Firenze boasted. Their youth was wasted on them, and the Fox was amused everytime that they did not notice him in their streets. Watching and waiting for the only person that did matter to hunt him down.

Which was where he was now. Volpe rested his back against the tower of the Frari, watching as the sun drowned beneath azure waters. The evening was cool, but the bricks behind him still held the afternoon's warmth. It was the ideal time to stretch out on the roof's tiles and take a nap, though the fox stayed wide awake. It would not due to be sleeping when one was expecting company. Speaking of which...

"Enjoying the view?" The voice sounded above him, though the older man did not so much as blink when Antonio dropped beside him. "I didn't expect to find you here."

"That is because you did not think. Pity, I thought you were getting better at that."

"Maybe you are just getting better at hiding." The Venetian thief dropped to sit next to the older thief, sighing a little. "I never get a chance to watch the sunset anymore."

"Then watch it now." Volpe slid an arm around the others shoulders, pulling the younger thief to lean against him. "Though, it happens every day. You should be able to make time for it once and awhile."

"It's not the same when you watch it alone. Besides, I like watching it with you." Unbidden, Antonio shifted until he sat between his lovers knees, resting his back against the others chest. "You should visit more often."

Volpe only _hmmed_, wrapping his arms around the slender man and rested his face in thick black hair. It was true that they so rarely saw each other, but Venezia and Firenze were not neighboring cities. It was a journey either way, and not an easy one at that. Volpe did visit as often as time allowed, but it wasn't enough for either of them. Time was not the problem for Antonio, but rather the things that he must do with that time. Unlike Volpe, Venezia's thieves were always open to the idea of rebellion. Even if he left for two days, Antonio risked losing everything he had built.

As they sat together, the sun lost it's battle and sank into the ocean. The air grew colder, and Antonio, shivering, pulled them both to their feet. "Come, let us go back. You will like the new place. Seta is very comfortable, and you will love the new bed. It is very...durable."

"I liked the old one fine," Volpe demureed, but followed the younger thief aong the rooftops. He knew where the Palazzo della Seta was and could probably have reached the place first, but Antonio was proud of his new headquarters and so the fox followed his lover. They raced like children over the rooftops, laughing and dancing out of each other's reach as they neared their destination.

And Antonio was right. Volpe did like the new bed.


	2. Eye of the Beholder

**Eye of the Beholder**

"It looks like a squiggle."

"It is not a squiggle. It is a supporting line, and-"

"Aren't lines supposed to be straight?"

"Ezio, there is only one artist in this room, and it happens to be-"

"Obviously, since you don't even know that lines are straight."

Leonardo da Vinci put his head in his hands and reminded himself yet again that violence was not the answer. He knew that the rain was keeping Ezio indoors today, insteading of his normal tasks as Lorenzo deMedici's personal assasin. And it wasn't like Ezio was being unhelpful. The man had run several errands for Leonardo that day, picking up ingrediants for paint and even suprising the man with a small jar of ultramarine, a gift for all the codex pages the artist had been decoding lately. But with those tasks done Ezio had grown bored, and a bored assasin was an annoying one.

"Listen very carefully Ezio, and do not speak until I am finished. This is not a squiggle. It is a supporting line. It is not straight because the figure it is supporting is not a straight line. And I will paint over it when I add the blue overtones, and no one will ever see it. Does that make sense to you?"

"Then why is it there?"

"To help define the shape of the object."

Ezio nodded, accepting that, and Leonardo went back to work. Charcoal lines continued to appear on the canvas, thin shadows of what was to be. The artist enjoyed this phase of the process the most, watching as what was in his head manifested itself onto the canvas. Verrochio had always had always drilled into him the importance of the basics of the painting, that his lines and figures must be accurate before he could even begin to mix colors. And Leonardo held that to heart. It was so relaxing to sketch the beginnings of an illustration, and as he worked the slight annoyance began to fade.

"I think you are wrong, you know."

"Hmm?" Leonardo looked up from the canvas, meeting the assasin's thoughtful eyes. "About what?"

"There only being one artist in the room. I mean, what is an artist, anyway? If it's someone who is just a painter or just a sculptor, then you aren't one."

"An artist...is someone who makes something worthy of praise." Leonardo frowned a little, not liking the explanation but unable to think of anything else. "Someone who makes thing that are beautiful or useful, and does it well."

"So I am an artist."

The statement suprised Leonardo enough that he put down his charcoal and turned away from the painting. Ezio seemed serious, and the artist bent his thoughts to the idea.

"How so?"

"What I do is worthy of praise. At least, Uncle and Ill Magnifico seem to think so. And what I do is useful. I mean, Marco Barbarigo was killing Venezia before his term of office ended. So, by your reasoning, I am an artists."

"I...suppose so. But Ezio, I don't know that killing is one of the arts."

"But we weren't talking about the arts. We were talking about artists."

"Yes, but...an artist makes art! So if what you do isn't an art, then you aren't an artist."

"Well then, what are the arts?"

"Sculpture, painting, architexcture, music."

"And murder, apparently."

"No, murder is not an art-"

"It is when carried out by an artist. Is it more an art when carried out on an artist?"

Leonardo thought it wise to go back to work at that point.


	3. Water Water Everywhere

**Water Water Everywhere**

Ezio wasn't quite sure if he went into the apple or Altair came out, but on days like to day it didn't matter. The two assasins had spent the morning racing over Florence, dodging guards and generally causing mischief. The Italien had a feeling that his predacessor had been a fan of mischief in his own time, seeing as he caused so much of it now. They had been free running over the great bridge across the Arno when a guard spotted them. His warnings were ignored as usual, until Ezio felt a familiar numb-burn across his calf as an arrow clipped him. He managed to dodge the second one-aimed at his chest- but the move cost him his balance, and he skidded off the tiles and dropped toward the water.

"No! Ezio!"

The water-as expected of the Arno in early spring- was freezing, and Ezio wasted no time getting out of it. Swimming underwater toward the bank, he heaved himself to the top of a mooring pole and leaped from it to the base of the bridge, trying to control his shivering. At least the sun was warm, and there was no guards to see and shot at him-

"Ahhhhh!"

The assasin flinched at the scream ,watching a one of the guards plummetted headfirst toward the water. It was a long fall, and Ezio knew that none of the guards could swim. The sounds of a vicious battle rang above him. Hand over hand he climbed up the side of the bridge, to perch on the roof and stare down. Altair was devastating the guards below, hidden blades flashing in the sun as they bite into each new target. Bodies littered the street, and the wisest of the guards were fleeing from the assasin's rage. When none were left to face, the man ran to the edge of the river and stared down, expression both horrified and pained.

"Ezio?"

"Up here, _idiota._" By now, Ezio had figured out the problem. Altair could not swim-at all- and he had assumed that the same was true of everyne in the world. "Impressive work, though."

"But...you...I saw you fall. Into the water." Altair pointed to the river below as if to prove his point. "I heard you hit the water."

"Did you hear me swimming?"

There was no reply, and Ezio's face broke out into a smirk. Here, then, was a chance to get back at the older man for showing him up in every other skill important to an assasin. But Altair hadn't been dragged into the Arno by Giovanni Auditore at the age of six and -along side the Medici children- taught to swim. This was truly a golden oppurtunity, and there was no way the Italien was going to pass it up.

"Well, that settles it. You and I are going swimming."

-/-/-

It didn't go over well. Ezio had to drag Altair-kicking and snarling- into the shallowest part of the Arno, near the bank. And that was the easiest part. No amount of cajoling, threatening or bribery was going to get the Arab anywhere near his one weakness, and that left Ezio with only one option left. If didn't make him happy, but at least he knew it would work.

"Damn you, Auditore, I will not-"

"Please?"

Altair froze, and Ezio gave a mental smirk. There was very little Altair could refuse his friend when he used THAT look. The Italien had learned from the best- Leonardo da Vinci- just how convincing a puppy-dog face could be, and he used the full power of it on the older man now. "Please, for me. What if you fell into the Arno? What if...Dio, Altair, what if I wasn't around to save you? How could I live with myself if I hadn't done everything possible to help you?"

"...I hate you."

"Please, amico mio?"

"I'm going to hate this."

And he did, though Ezio had to give him credit: it was the most effective use of the doggy paddle he had ever seen.


	4. Sealed and Delivered

**Sealed and Delivered**

When it first happened, Mario though that it was perhaps an earthquake.

The assasin had been calmly working at his desk, going over reports from his men on the business around Toscana when Ezio had glided past him, en route to the Chamber of Seals. It was not an uncommon thing- the air was cool so far beneath the villa, and what sunlight did trickle through the grate high above was perfect for reading. The place was perfect to relax after a long day, particularly if that long day had been bloody. Mario himself had sat down there a thousand times, staring up at the statue of Altair as he tried to forget the faces of his targets. It was unsurprising that his nephew had found similiar solace in the place.

He had been frowning over news of bandits near the villa when the ground beneath him had egun to shudder. Part of his mind registered both Claudia and Maria's screams, but the forefront of his thoughts were on the man below. If the villa were to collapse, Ezio was doomed. He launched himself down the stairs, incredibly fast despite his age. The instant his boots touched level ground he was reaching for Ezio-

Who stood before the armor of Altair, watching the gate rise.

"Dio Mio..." Mario breathed, though his enraptured nipote seemed not to hear him. "You found the seals."

As his uncle watched, Ezio reached up and very gently lifted the armor off its stand. It was heavy, and the noble was surprised by it. He turned, intending to change here rather then stagger upstairs with this in his arms, and saw Uncle.

"Zio...I found them all."

"Indeed. You surpasse us all. In a thousand years, no one had found any of them." Mario rested one hand on the armor, and the other on the man's shoulder. "I am so proud of you, nipote. Go, now, and try it on! Let us see what Altair has left his benefactor."

_And maybe, possibly it will be too big for him. Then I will be forced to wear it._


	5. Mind, Body and Soul

**Mind, Body and Soul**

Desmond talked in his sleep, and it was scaring the hell out of Shaun. Oh, he could handle it if his lover was just rambling about whatever his dreams were, or if he was like Shaun's sister and sang sang the night away. The Brit was a heavy sleeper normally, and so such things would have very little effect on his over all rest. If worst came to worst he would just invest in earplugs.

It was harder to ignore when your lover mumbled Italien against the pillows.

Lucy had warned them all of the bleeding effect. They were being careful, not pushing how long Desmond was in the animus, never letting him go under every day or days at a time. They monitered his physical and mental health, putting him through his paces and cheering the enhanced growth of his assasin's abilities. And then the day ended, and they retired to their individual rooms.

So they didn't see the worst of it. Sometimes it seemed as if Ezio was taking over, just for seconds at a time. His eyes would change, sharpening on details as muscles tensed into familiar/unfamiliar readiness. It would just be for flashes at a time, never long enough for anything to happen, but enough to worry Shaun. If they got worse, if Desmond started losing himself... It wasn't just his lover Shaun was worried about. He had everyone's safety to consider. After all, would they shine with the blue light in Ezio's eagle eye? And if they didn't, was there aything they would be able to do to defend themselves?

The historian didn't think so.

As a child, his grandmother had always quoted the king to her when he grew angry or upset. _"Keep calm and carry on, Shaun. It's your best bet."_ But it was hard to keep calm when everything was coming apart at the seems. Abstergo was coming closer, and to make it worse they were slowly losing another assasin. How do you keep calm in the face of that? How do you carry on knowing that what you are doing is hurting your friend, damaging your lover?

The answer was simple, when Shaun finally sat and thought about it. If he could the other assasins fighting for control want to stay away, then surely the man would have more success fighting the visions off. Mind over matter and all that. The plan was sound, and Shaun only needed a very little time to set it in motion. It did require some observation on his part(not to mention an English to Italien dictionary), but Hastings was an assasin. Observing was part of his job description. And it paid off when, late at night, he caught the deep breath that preceded Desmond's loss of control.

"Not bloody likely, mate." The Brit rolled quickly over to straddle his lover, hands viced over his biceps to prevent any undo retaliation. Desmond/Ezio stared up at him in surprise, and Shaun glared down at him. "Sod off, Auditore. I haven't had a minute with Des here, and I have very intention of making the most of my free time now. _Invia, ingerenza assassino._"

"_Perche? Se si desidera che il suo corpo, non importa a chi in esso."_

Didn't matter who was in it? Was this man insane? Furious to see his plan crumbling away from him, Shaun snarled into painfully familiar arms and spat out the most hurtful thing that came to mind. He knew that there would be guilt later, but right now all he wanted was his lover back.

"How noble, _ben fatto_. I can see why it took you so long to avenge your family. YOu didn't care who you killed, as long as everyone praised the great _salvatore assasino._ How many innocents died to wet your blood lust, _eroe?"_

Brown eyes widened, glazed, and cleared,, revealing only Desmond to Shaun's relieved gaze. The Brit leaned down, kissing the man ferverently as he stroked the mans hair. The moment lasted only precious seconds before the darker man pulled away to look curiously at his lover.

"What did you do? One second he was taking over, and the next I can't even sense him."

"I just reminded him who you belong to." Shaun gently framed Desmond's face with his hands. "I love you, Miles, and sharing your ancestors isn't high on my to do list."

"I love you too, Shaun. Even if you hurt Ezio's feelings."

"He'll recover. So, shall we continue where we left off? I've been looking forward to a simply Desmond night."

_"Wasmhwa lna. Wlkhn hdr mn- loqd thkhn al-jld thm as-Sby."_

"...Screw this. I'm going to sleep."

Italien(Ezio):

_Invia, ingerenza assassino- _Leave, meddling assasin

_Perche? Se si desidera che il suo corpo, non importa a chi in esso -_ Why? If you want his gdsdsgbody, it doesn't matter whose in it.

_ben fatto_- well said

_salvatore assasino-_ savior assasin

_eroe_- hero

Arabic(Altair):

_Wasmhwa lna. Wlkhn hdr mn- loqd thkhn al-jld thm as-Sby. _-Let us. But be warned- I have thicker skin then the boy.


	6. Women's Wiles

**Women's Wiles**

"Paola, I have missed you terribly."

"As I you, Teodora. It has been far too long."

The two women embraced, friends reunited after a long absence. It was no little distance between their cities, and letters were rarely enough to keep the two friends up to date on each other's lives. Bordello's did not run themselves, and neither woman would dare leave their girls without guidance for the length of such a journey without preperation. It was not an easy task to groom second in commands- too often it led to rivalry or greed, and ended in bloodshed and tears. There was no reason to cause such turmoil if not absolutely neccessary. But their presence was needed in Monteriggioni and so they had answered the call.

Now, of course, it seemed rather childish. The vault had been opened, it's secrets made known. It's message, however, had been cryptic and obviously not meant for them. Whoever-whatever- Desmond was, it was surely none amongst their number. But the threat that had been threatening them for close to thirty years had finally been removed, and the assasins of Monteriggio had demanded a celebration.

"You must tell me the news from _Firenze_." Teodora poured tea into two cups and handed one to the other woman. Let Antonio keep his _caffe_- there was nothing like tea among women. "Is Volpe here?And Messer Machiavelli?"

"Oh, Volpe is here. He did me the dubious honor of riding with me." Paola rolled her eyes and took a sip from the delicate china. "You'd think it was years rather then days since he's seen his _ladro di preziosi._ Niccoli is just as bad, so keen to talk to Ezio about what happened in Roma."

Teodora tensed at the news. "If that _stronzo politico_ takes one step toward Ezio before that boy is recovered, he will regret the day his mother concieved."

Laughing, Paola patted the other woman's arm. "Don't worry. Volpe said something similiar, though slightly more...threatening. He won't look at Ezio before he's ready. Which is good- I've never wanted to touch the man, and had no intention of starting now." Stirring more milk into her tea, she looked up at her friend. "How is the _assasino poco?"_

"Resting with Leonardo. The _pittore_ is most protective of his lover, though Ezio is recovering nicely. The physician thinks that Ezio will be right as _pioggia_ in no time."

"Good. How is Mario taking the news of the vault?"

"Like he takes everything. Though he was understandably nervous when Ezio was brought back here. Borgia did a number on him."

"_Bastardo. _I almost wish Ezio had taken care of him when he had the chance."

"He wouldn't be Ezio if he did not suprise us at the last."

"And what does the mighty Bartolomeo think of this?"

"He was more worried about his _condottiero poco_ then any kind of militay or political strategy. "The memory made Teodora giggle. "No matter what the man says, he has a spot softer then a _cuscino_ for Ezio."

"Indeed, a true _altea_."

Just then a band of thieves ran by, young boys in ragged trousers and threadbare vests who giggled as they scrambled up crates and walls. Antonio followed close behind, shouting orders as he chased them. A shadow falling over them could only be La Volpe, silent observer from above as both man coached the next generation of thieves. Children today, they might grow up to be Ezio's eyes and ears when they were older. It was good, then, that they had such excellant teachers.

"You'd think they were no older then those lads, gadding about like that." Paola shook her head as Volpe dropped behind Antonio, startling the man as he pulled his Venezian counterpart against him for a quick hug. "No matter what they claim it to be, those two always manage to intermingle _lavora_ with _giochi_."

"They all do, and Ezio is the worst of them. If he were not younger then the rest, I would accuse him of being a bad influence."

"Perhaps he has been too influenced, and has as such become the worst of them."

"This is all too likely."

"_Signorinas, _I was wondering where you were." Bartolomeo had approached their table. "Apparently Antionio was teasing Rosa that she would never be as proper as Claudia, and now she is determined to prove her wrong. Maria has requested reinforcements."

The idea had both women giggling at once, and they stood. Paola took Bartolomeo's left arm, Teodora the right, and both shared a plotting smile.

"We are glad to help, of course, but..." Paola's voice was amused, despite her efforts to hide it. When the giggles broke forth, Teodora continued for her.

"But you cannot learn how to dance without a partner. Come, Messer d'Alviano. One of your brothers-well, sisters- needs you."

Laughing, the women led their protesting friend back into the villa. Everything was permitted, indeed.

Italien:

_caffe-_ coffee  
_ladro di preziosi-_ precious thief  
_stronzo politico_- political fucker  
_assasino poco_- little assasin  
_pittore_- painter  
_pioggia_- rain  
_condottiero poco_- little leader  
_cuscino_- pillow  
_altea_- marsh-mallow  
_lavora-_work  
_giochi_- play/games  
_Signorinas_- misses/ladies 


	7. Staying in the Loop

**Staying in the Loop**

"_Attentione_! All those arriving from the lower Dalmation coast are asked to see a maestro after reports of a recent outbreak of plague."

Ezio Auditore da Firenze stretched out on the tiles of the Frari's lowest roof, hands clasped behind his head as he listened to the goings on of Venezia. It was little things really. News- apparently a merchant vessal had sank with all hands, and Ezio's heart went out to those who would never see their loved ones again-,Society- the doge was holding a masque- and the commands of those in control of trade-which meant that until the Holy Father made up his mind, the disputed lands to the south would still be disputed.

And Ezio soaked up every second of it. As a child he had haunted his parents bedchamber during the day, curled up on the window seat as he listened to the heralds call out the news of the city. There was so much to hear, so much to learn about the city he had yet to explore. Every word had been memorized, to be repeated excitedly to the rest of his family over the evening meal. As Federico glowered, Ezio would bask in his father's praise at "keeping attentive to his surrondings", and would often reward him by elaborating on some of the news. As he grew older, he listened to report back to Petruccio, who soaked up the news like parched earth did water.

"Attention all merchants trading in spices from the East. A tariff has been imposed to help maintian the city's arsonal. Some exemptions apply. Consult the full decree to see if you are eligible."

That wouldn't go over well. Shifting to rest in the shade of the Frari's tower, Ezio let his eyes drift close as the day continued. He would hear of executions, a new art stall, blacksmith's deals and tailor's reputations. Gondoliers were ordered to stop drinking before taking the helm, and citizens were warned not to eat the fish from the Grand Canal. There were more buildings going up, and wealthy families looked for ideas concerning these buildings. It was, all in all, a very educational day.

More importantly, as the sun dropped beneath the waters and Ezio drifted back to his bed- an abandoned gondola-, he felt at peace. He was up to date with the city he called home, and somehow the familiar activity had acted as the balm he'd needed that day, when the memories of his family were painfully close. Halfway across the city, a thought made him stop, grin a dn change direction.

Perhaps Leonardo would be interested in the goings-on of the city as well.


End file.
